Our Night
by MGMK
Summary: They've waited a long time for this, and they're gonna enjoy it. Prom spoilers, so up to 3x19.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Just borrowing. I don't even own Mama Lopez anymore (which I can't even complain about)

**Author's Note:** A little late, no? This thing just stayed floating around in my head and I had to write it down. I kind of hate it though (just like everything I write barring a few chapters here or there). A few things; First, I cannot take credit for the Spanish in that last Maya chapter. The credit belong to dghterjudy. As a matter of fact, credit her for the Spanish consult in this chapter as well. Second, I'm on tumblr ya'll. Actually, it's gonna be co-run by my beta (who's much more adept at it so that'll be cool). So hit me up on there or whatever. I have a sneaking suspicion I'll be posting lots of ficlets on there because some of these blink and miss it things I scribble down from time to time are too short to go through the trouble on FF(dot)net. So the tumblr link is on my profile now as my webpage or you could just type this is minus the spaces chicagonightsstay(dot)tumblr(dot)com. Lastly, big shout out, props, all the awards to my beta for helping me out tremendously. You guys just have no idea. Thanks for reading and reviewing peeps. 'Til next time.

* * *

Santana's jotting some last minute notes from her history lecture into her notebook when Brittany spots her.

She grins at the way Santana's face in wrought with concentration, the cap to the pen she's using clenched between her teeth. Quietly, Brittany saunters up to her on the opposite side of the hall, hiding perfectly undetected by her girlfriend's open locker door.

After a second or so, Santana caps her pen and tosses the notebook inside, closing it quickly and then startling when she finally sees Brittany.

Brittany smirks. "How you doin'?"

Santana snorts out a laugh, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I'm fine," she answers, reaching for Brittany's hand and lacing their fingers together. "And how are you?"

"Well…"Brittany starts, her eyes sparking mischievously and Santana feels her stomach quiver, _waiting _for it. "…that all depends on what the answer to the question's gonna be."

"What's the question?"

Brittany looks hesitant and Santana watches a cloud of something pass through her clear blue eyes before it falls away, replaced by an air of confidence. Brittany's thumb brushes against the back of her hand, tracing over veins Santana thinks she's probably memorized. "Will you…" Brittany starts, her voice growing quieter beneath the din of the crowded hallway, "Will you go to prom? With me?"

It's yes.

Her answer is and always was gonna be yes.

It's a given that they were going together so this is a rhetorical question at best.

But she's so floored by the question – it's like, the Santana from ages ago dreamt of this moment and it'd been so surreal that she'd never even considered it a possibility, but here it is.

Brittany, her girlfriend, just as bare and honest and open as she's ever been, is asking her to prom.

It's so much better than in her dream though, and so romantic… and this is _just_ the question.

Come prom night, she may actually swoon.

"Of course I'll go to prom with you Britt-Britt," she rushes out, her throat so tight with emotion that it's barely above a whisper.

"For realsies?" Brittany asks, her eyes lighting up.

Santana's smile softens. "For realsies."

"Score!"

***o*O*o***

"Brittany," Mrs. Lopez says, pulling open the door with a bright smile that doesn't dull so much as morph into one of semi-confusion. "You look…"

Brittany preens before doing a little twirl, her tiny top hat wobbling a little as she does so. "Isn't it great?"

"It's…" the woman starts, finally deciding to just ask, "Brittany, sweetie, what are you wearing?"

Brittany's head tilts, surprise evident on her face. "A druxedo," she answers, like it's obvious.

At first Mrs. Lopez is still confused but then the fog starts to recede and she nods, understanding.

She really should be used to this by now but, she supposes it doesn't matter; she'll have plenty of practice.

"A dress tuxedo," she says, lips pursed in quiet amusement.

"Yeah," Brittany says, eyes twinkling. "I couldn't decided whether I wanted to be the escort or be the one escorted so I decided this was the best compromise. Do you like it?"

"You look adorable, Brittany and I'm sure my daughter," she goes on to say, raising her voice a little so that it carries up the stairs where Santana is more than likely still primping away, "will love it too when she finally comes down here!"

"Mom, is Britt-Britt here?"

"Nope! Brittany is not standing right here in the living room, waiting patiently for you to come down or anything!"

Brittany gasps, calling up the stairs. "She's totally lying, San!"

Finally, they hear Santana's slow footsteps start down the stairs and Brittany shuffles the couple feet until their standing at the base of it, her eyes shining the moment she can clearly see her.

"Hey," Santana says shyly, ducking her head a bit as she stands at the foot of the stairs, a little out of sorts what with her mother standing by proudly wearing an amused smile.

"You look…_awesome_," Brittany gushes, her eyes wide and Santana laughs because that is so totally Brittany.

"Thanks," she giggles, reaching out to tug on the lapels of Brittany's jacket. "You're wearing a druxedo," she says with an easy smile, her hands moving to straighten Brittany's crooked bow tie. "I dig it President Pierce."

"Sweet," Brittany grins, in that cute way that she does where it just gets wider and wider until they're both fighting off giggles.

"Okay," Santana's mom says, clapping her hands together. "Papi, Angelito! Get your asses down here so we can take all the pictures! Oh, dios mio. I almost forgot."

Santana loops her arm around Brittany's and Brittany watches with confusion as Santana's mom scampers away to the kitchen just as Mr. Lopez and Santana's little brother show up.

"Gross," Angeles comments dryly, scrunching up his face even as his smile gives him away, "You look like a girl."

Santana rolls her eyes, ignoring him. "I _always _look like a girl."

"You look beautiful Santanita," her father says, smile in his eyes and on his face as he looks at the girls. "Both of you."

Santana blushes, leaning into Brittany a little and then reddens further when Brittany uses the opportunity to thread their fingers together.

"Okay. I've got it," Santana's mom says, handing her daughter what appears to be some vegetables in a plastic container but then Santana's excited eyes are looking at her and she turns slightly, untangling their hands but holding firmly to Brittany's wrist.

"So, I know that we agreed that we were going to bunk all of the regular prom traditions but…" Santana cracks open the container, biting her lip and removing the perfectly crafted corsage delicately, "…I've always dreamed of doing this with you, Britt. Going to prom, being your girlfriend. I've dreamed of all of it even before I even knew what it was or what to call it. So, I'm hoping that you'll wear this corsage." She finally looks up at Brittany, her dark eyes somehow sparkly gold. "I made sure that it's got both of our dress colors in it so we coordinate and everything. And I had the lady de-pollen-ize it or whatever – I didn't even know you could do that – so it won't mess with your allergies and-"

"Santana," Brittany laughs, gratefully stopping the nervous ramble. "It's perfect," she says, nodding to signal her girlfriend to put it on. "You're perfect. And I can't wait to show up at prom with the prettiest, perfectest, awesomest girl on my arm."

"Well, you're going to have to," Santana says, proudly. "'Cause I'm pretty sure that's going to be me."

Angeles snorts. "You guys are so corny."

"Leave them be, Niño," Mrs. Lopez says, and Brittany only just realizes she's been taking pictures this whole time. "They're teenagers and they're in love. One day you will be too and we can all laugh at your lovey-dovey faces."

"No me gusta," Angeles quips, but then he looks at his sister and Brittany and smiles again. "But, you guys are kinda okay together. And even if you don't win prom king and queen, _I_ still think you're pretty cool." He finishes this off with a little shrug, ignoring all the eyes he can feel on him.

"Aww," Brittany and Santana coo at the same time, grabbing for him before he can bolt and laughing and placing kisses on either one of his cheeks as he screeches in his pre-teen, squeaky voice.

Mrs. Lopez snaps another picture.

***o*O*o***

"And the award for cutest couple goes to," Mike announces, framing them with his hands as they join the rest of the group.

Brittany twirls Santana around a little, while performing her own little bow amidst the makeshift applause.

"Hey guys," Mercedes laughs, leaning into Sam as she looks the girls over. "You both look awesome."

"Thanks Mercedes," Brittany says, holding her girl close. "So do you."

"You sure?" Sam asks, turning his backside out. "You don't think this tux makes my butt look too big?"

"You're such an idiot, Sammy," Santana laughs, ruffling his hair as they all start to walk inside.

"Okay, you guys," Brittany says, standing in front of the gym entrance with a quixotic, playful smile on her face, "Prepare yourselves for your minds to be blown."

She pushes opens the doors and immediately their senses are overwhelmed by the myriad of fake plastic trees, jungle music, and an ever-present, ominous, fog.

Sure it's over the top, and maybe some of the dinosaurs still have price tags on them, but it's still quite possibly the coolest thing any of them have seen.

"This…is…awesome," Mike says, his voice dreamy and eyes wide.

"Dude," Sam says, nudging him in the ribs, "Race you to the stegosaurus stomp."

"You're on," Mike says, taking off a moment after dusting a kiss to Tina's check, their respective dates rolling their eyes after them.

"Boys," Mercedes laughs, stepping alongside her fellow TroubleTones teammates.

Santana giggles a little, leaning her head against Brittany's shoulder. "So glad I don't have that problem anymore."

***o*O*o***

When Brittany finishes the "Dinosaur" set, sweaty and panting and accepting the applause from all of the other smiling faces, Santana throws caution to the wind and herself onto Brittany, nearly screeching her approval like the Brittany S. Pierce fangirl that she is.

***o*O*o***

When Santana tells her, she and Quinn are handing over the prom queen crown to Rachel, she pouts a little bit (mostly 'cause she hates Rachel) until she finds out that neither Santana or herself actually won.

Then, she doesn't really care as long as she gets to dance with her girl.

"Right?" Brittany clarifies, just before Santana steps onto the stage.

"I have to sing, baby," Santana tells her gently, following Quinn and then President Brittany decides to take over.

***o*O*o***

She's glad that Santana's distracted by Quinn suddenly standing at her side, it makes blindsiding her all the more easy.

She almost falters on the note when Brittany taps her on her shoulder, crooked, shy smile on her face as she nods behind her to the dance floor. "Come on," Brittany requests gently, and with a last spared glance at Quinn, who's grateful as Joe helps her stand upright on stage, she takes off with her girlfriend, microphone still in hand as Brittany whisks her offstage.

***o*O*o***

"Your voice is so pretty," Brittany whispers in her ear, Santana still singing the last note of the last chorus as they sway in each other's arms gently. "It's like, all the pretty sounds in the world hooked up and gave birth to your voice."

Santana smiles, finally finished with the singing but the band keeps playing, letting everyone continue to enjoy themselves. "You say the best things, Britt-Britt."

"Sometimes," Brittany admits, pulling back with a rueful smile. "And sometimes I say the worst."

Santana's face clouds over with worry, afraid Brittany's insecurities are turning up again and wondering if someone's said something tonight to trigger them until a memory – one she'd long ago buried – tugs at the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry," Brittany says quietly, sensing that Santana knows what's she referring to now, they're always on the same wavelength after all. "I'm sorry I didn't choose you then. I'm sorry I made you feel like it was even a choice. Because it wasn't. Not even for a second and the moment I said it I felt so awful because, yeah, maybe I loved Artie," she says, shrugging like those words don't even matter. "But," she starts, taking their joined hands and pressing them over her heart, "I'm _in_ love with you, Santana."

Santana doesn't know what to say, her eyes filling up and growing heavy and she swallows against the thickness she feels in her throat.

"I'm sorry," Brittany blinks, brushing her lips against Santana's knuckles before draping both arms back around her shoulders. "It's out prom night. Happy times. And here I go digging up the past. Just ignore it."

"Never," Santana finally says, a little more sharply than she intended which earns them a few looks in their direction. But she doesn't care.

"I'll never forget what you said, Brittany," she continues, her fingers playing against the wispy hairs at the nape of Brittany's neck. "Why would I? I'm in love with you, too."

***o*O*o***

"So, where to Cinderella?" Brittany asks Santana, once their safely tucked away inside her car.

Brittany turns on the car and flips through scribbled invite after scribbled invite as Santana toes off her shoes, relaxes into the passenger seat.

It's no surprise that everyone wants them at their party; they still are single-handedly the most popular girls at McKinley.

What_ is_ surprising is that neither of them feels the pressing need to attend these parties, not like they used to anyway.

"If I _had _to go to one of these," Brittany starts to say, gathering the papers and sitting them in the cup holder, "I guess it'd be the Glee kids' one." She sits back, looks over at Santana and is surprised to find her girlfriend watching her quietly, intently.

Santana's leaning against the headrest, her head turned in Brittany's direction, and she's wearing a smile so euphoric, so pure, it makes Brittany's face redden.

"What?" she asks, ducking her chin slightly, akin to the way a turtle would slink back into its shell.

"Tonight was great," Santana says, reaching out to put Brittany's hat from atop her head, being careful of the pins. "Everything I dreamed it would be and more."

"Yeah," Brittany breathes out, catching Santana's hand in her and kissing it gently. "Too bad you didn't win prom queen though."

Santana shakes her head. "It doesn't matter. I finally realize that, yeah, it's great if other people like you, but if you don't love yourself first, then what good does it do? It's taken so long, but I've embraced what I am…who I am. And I'm a better person for it."

"You've got a lot of pretty words, too, San," Brittany says, looking at her proudly.

***o*O*o***

"_Thank you for party rocking!"_

Santana's laughing so hard that her stomach is cramping, watching Brittany and Sam of all people have a dance-off in the middle of Mike Chang's living room.

Turns out the Changster manages a pretty awesome party.

They're all having fun. Bumping into one another on the dance floor (Artie, Rory, and Joe), or engaged in quiet conversations (Kurt and Blaine) or merely sitting back with a half-baked smile on your face, watching your friends make complete idiots of themselves (Puck). Even Britt only glared at Rachel the one time, when the tiny brunette decided that she and Finn should lead them all in dance…again.

"Check it out!" Sam yells over the music, pointing in Santana's direction. "New move! This is what I like to call the Lopez Loca Legs!"

As soon as he says it he starts doing some gyrating, half James Brown, half Michael Jackson legs slide, looking more like he's having a seizure than dancing, cracking up everyone in the process.

"You're such a loser, Sammy!" Santana yells at him as he dances closer to her.

"Oh, you love it, Sanny!" he yells back, and the smile instantly falls off her face.

"Oh-ho!" Rory crows. "She doesn't like that one."

She frowns just a bit, ready to wipe that huge grin off of Trouty Mouth's face until Brittany's standing in front of her, smiling. "Don't pout," she says, tapping Santana's nose with her index finger before encircling her waist with her arms. "It's happy time. Plus, I'll totally give him a wedgie if he calls you it again, okay?"

Santana laughs. "Promise?"

Brittany gives her a quick peck. "Promise."

***o*O*o***

They're sitting on the couch with a tired Quinn when Artie rolls up, pushing his glasses up on his nose nervously like he always does when he's around Santana.

"Um, hi, guys," he starts, looking a bit out of place. "Santana, please don't hit me, but would you mind if Brittany and I got our boogie on?"

Santana snorts, rolling her eyes. "What are you asking me for Wheels? Ask Britt."

"Oh," he swallows, turning his chair toward Brittany, "Um, Brittany, would you like-"

Brittany cuts him off with a laugh. "I'll dance with you Artie." She stands up, stretching a little before leaning down to brush a kiss against Santana's over-warm cheek. "Be right back, baby."

She's not prepared for it when Santana pulls her back down, tugging on the sleeve of her jacket and wrapping her hand around the base of Brittany's skull, tilting her face up to give Brittany a kiss that's chaste but no less intimate.

Santana grins crookedly when she pulls away, trying not to smile too widely at the dazed look Brittany's quite suddenly sporting. "I'll be waiting," she whispers, then peeks around at Artie. "And don't you forget it."

Brittany laughs again, pushing Artie ahead of her, keeping her eyes locked with Santana's until she's sure she's going to run into something.

(And maybe still even a little after that.)

Santana watches her, watches her bright smile brighten even further when a Ke$ha song comes on, watches as she goes into diva dancer Britt mode and all the while she's watching, Quinn's watching her.

The spell's broken – not broke; more like…muted – at the little giggle she hears just off to her right.

Quinn's got this funny little look on her face – it says she has a secret but no she won't share and besides, you already know what it is.

"What?" Santana asks, feeling a little more than self-conscious.

"Nothing," Quinn says, shaking her head but she might as well have said everything with all the emotion Santana sees in her eyes. "I'm just…really happy for you guys. Really happy."

Santana grins, genuine. "Thanks Quinn," she says quietly, watching her friend intently before nudging her with her elbow. "Did they like swap out your brain while you were in the hospital?"

Quinn laughs it off, like she should. "Maybe. I've certainly gotten a new perspective on things," she says, smiling thought her answer is kind of serious. "But, I'm glad for it."

Santana leans into her, reaching around to pull her into a sideways hug. Her voice is quiet, but somehow she knows Quin'll hear.

"I'm glad you're here."

***o*O*o***

It becomes ridiculously obvious that no one wants the night to end when they've completed the rotation of everyone's iPod… twice, but finally Mrs. Chang shows up at the top of the stairs, obviously fresh from waking and they realize it's time to go home.

They all hug and part ways, promises to meet up this weekend and hang out before school Monday made before they go.

And Brittany holds the passenger door open for Santana, smiling a quirky smile when the girl hides a yawn, or tries to anyway.

"Someone's sleepy," Brittany sing-songs. "Should I take you home and tuck you in?"

Santana slinks down into the seat, her smile dazzling as she looks up at Brittany through blinking eyes. "Where's home?"

"Well…" Brittany says, closing Santana's door and then rushing to the other side and getting in before she continues. "You see, I kinda had this idea."

Santana quirks an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"So…you know how I made that video of Lord Tubbington's 'OMG' face?"

"Yeah…."

"And then I got that email where from that insurance company wanting the rights to it?"

"I remember, Britt-Britt. You said you were gonna ask your mom about it."

"Right. So I did and she said we should get a lawyer and it turns out that people who sell insurance will pay you money to use home footage of your cat."

Santana's eyes bug out of her head. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Gecko or something. So, anyway, I signed some papers and the first check came two days ago so I booked us a reservation at the nicest hotel in Lima, Ohio and I know it is 'cause I googled 'nicest hotel in Lima, Ohio'," Brittany explains, uncharacteristically rambling. She cuts herself off, her eyes going softer as she looks – really looks – at Santana. "So, if you wanted to…we could go. But you don't have to," she rushes to add on, her nerves painted on her face.

"Britt-Britt," Santana says dreamily, her expression one of pure adoration and love, "I'd love to go with you."

Brittany beams. "Yeah?"

Santana mirrors it. "Yeah."

Brittany's smile turns into a smirk. "Damn right you do."

***o*O*o***

It's kind of like being an adult, driving across town and sharing your own hotel room.

Parking near the entrance, and holding hands as you roll your luggage up to the receptionist's desk.

Smiling politely and tipping your tiny top hat when the older woman smiles at you like you're the cutest things ever, all 'thank you, Ma'am' and quiet exuberance.

But the minute Brittany and Santana are tucked away inside the elevator, the doors closing with a distinct 'ding!', the teenagers they truly are finally come out to play.

"Oh my God, Britt. This is _so_ cool. Did you see that fish tank down there? And they have a wine tasting scheduled tomorrow in the lobby. No big deal or anything. Just _wine_."

"Yep, well a girl's gotta show her lady a nice time," Brittany says with a casual shrug, holding their shared suitcase with one hand and pulling Santana closer to her with the other.

"Well, this girl's got a surprise for her lady as well," Santana says, eyes almost glowing. She works her arms over Brittany's shoulders, molding them together, chest to chest, heart to heart, until the elevator stops and she spins around, making sure she stays ensnared in Brittany's grip.

Their floor's quiet, the other patrons of the hotel more than likely sleeping. They muffles their excited giggles into one another's shoulders and when Brittany hands Santana the card key, her mouth worrying at the juncture of Santana's neck and shoulder, she has to try it three times before she realizes it's backwards.

Stumbling inside finally, Brittany casts the bag aside and tugs on Santana's wrist, crashing their mouths together before they can even get a good look at the room.

The door clicks shut behind them as Santana's hands work themselves under Brittany's jacket, pushing it off her shoulders and letting it pool onto the carpeted floor.

The kiss grows deeper, wetter; the sounds they're making spurring her own as much as the feel of Brittany's tongue tracing circles onto the roof of her mouth. She loses herself in it, her hands unable to decide where they want to stay. Gripping Brittany's shoulders tighter and molding their bodies together is one option, using them to work open the buttons of Brittany's tuxedo shirt is another.

Brittany gets the idea, and they both struggle with her bow tie for a moment, breaking apart to work free the knot Santana's fingers have worried it into.

The moment gives them both a minute to catch their breath and something in the air shifts, the hurried need melts away, leaving them standing in one another's presence on the precipice of something so familiar but different all the same.

"We should turn the lights on," Santana says quietly, fixing Brittany with a serious gaze. "No more dancing in the dark."

"Okay," Brittany nods with a smile.

When the room is illuminated, there's a new understanding between them.

Everything's heightened, movements slow and deliberate as skin is revealed inch by exquisite inch.

Santana undoes Brittany's hair, gently combing her fingers through it until it's loose and wavy, soft between her fingers.

Santana's surprise – lace underwear, purple; Brittany's favorite color, makes blue eyes glaze over with lust.

When they finally tumble into the bed, they just watch one another for a moment, kissing tenderly and with reverence.

Their hands map out contours and curves traversed a million times over, fingertips burning patterns into sensitive skin and when those final articles of clothes are shed, they make breathless promises again and again and again…

***o*O*o***

Santana stirs – the sun's just starting to spill into the room – and she wonders momentarily where she is, because her bedroom is generally dark as night until her alarm goes off.

But then, she relaxes, her ears perking up and recognizing Brittany's quiet voice, singing to her softly.

_You are so beautiful, to me_

She smiles before her eyes open, head pillowed against Brittany's naked chest as her girlfriend – her _girlfriend_ – brushes her fingers through her hair, tracing along her hairline with a feather-light touch.

_You are so beautiful, to me_

_Can't you see…_

Santana shifts, tilting her head up a little and finding Brittany watching her intently, small smile on her face.

_You're everything I hoped for_

_Everything I need_

Brittany presses a kiss to the top of her head, Santana's eyes following the movement, before she sings the last line.

_You are so beautiful, to me…_

"I love you, Santana," she finally whispers, looking like the most content person in the world.

Santana nestles closer, feeling warm and content and unbelievably loved. "I love you, too, Britt."

Her prom night has been romantic, so much more than she ever dreamt it would be.

Perfect prom, on the perfect night, with the perfect girl…she couldn't ask for more.

"Guess what?" Brittany asks her, with a slight tilt of her head and a coy grin.

"What?" Santana asks slowly, her own smile matching Brittany's.

Brittany wiggles her eyebrows, then her hips, hip bone bumping against Santana's.

"_Breadstix_ delivers here."

Well, maybe she could ask for one more thing.


End file.
